Rebirth
by Songwind k'Vala
Summary: Wrote this oneshot on one time when Ma'ar was reborn. try it!


Master Mage Randal of the White Winds School sat frowning at his latest student. He had been sent here by his uncle against his will, but he had an _immense_ amount of Mage-Potential. His powers, upon awakening, had summoned a tremendous wind that flattened several barns in an instinctive reaction when one of his cousins had surprised him just after a descriptive horror story. There was definitely enough there to ensure that he would reach Adept status, and may even become the Archmage of the White Winds – if he would only apply himself properly.

He sighed. He would not let such a bright, promising young boy like this go to waste. Even if he had to spend every single hour of day and night with him, he would make him learn.

Right now, he was having trouble with – of all things – the spell to call fire. _The easiest, most basic of all exercises and he can't do it. He can spin illusions, cast lightning, draw water out of the air, but he can't even do as much as call one measly spark to him. I don't believe it. He has to be doing this deliberately, and by Astera I _will_ break this rebelliousness out of him!_

"You failed. Again." He vocalised. The offending piece of oil-soaked tinder lay on the table. "What do you think you're trying to pull? Faravale? Answer!"

"I just can't do it!" the boy – Faravale – yelled. "If you want me to light anything, I'll just do this!" Flinging out one hand, a bolt of lightning ripped into the tinder, scattering it into a million glowing sparks. "Why in all the hells do I have to use the damned fire-calling spell anyway? For that matter, I don't even _want_ to be a mage!"

Thwack!

The resounding slap echoed around the room.

Randal's sitting figure _blurred_, and he was at the boy's side. Glowing, multicoloured flames danced around him, and his eyes were even burning a bright blue. He reached and grabbed the boy's tunic, and pulled him such that they were staring into each other's eyes.

"You," he enunciated slowly "You are the worst student I have ever had in the _twenty years_ since I made Master! My natural abilities will take me no further, but you are _Adept_ potential! Many would kill to have your power, and I will NOT let that ability go to waste!" Drawing a deep breath, he closed his eyes, calming his rage. The flames surrounding him flickered out, and when he reopened them, they were once again his natural brown. Slowly, he released the boy into the chair, before crossing back to his own chair and sitting. He placed another piece of lint on the table.

"Now, you will do the exercise. Again. Neither of us will leave the room until the exercise is complete. If you pull another stunt like that again…" he left the threat hanging in the air. "Light it." He sat back and watched the frightened boy close his eyes and focus, before himself closing his eyes, visualising the complex spell-weave of a spell he was working on, using it to calm himself.

* * *

_By all the gods, I've never seen him that angry before!_ A stunned Faravale thought, as he refocused his attention and energies on the piece of lint. _I swear that the flames would have burnt me if I wasn't shielding!_

_Wait…_

_I was _shielding

_He _physically _reached me through the shield! I never heard of anyone doing that before…what powers his rage gives him!_

A thought burst into flower in his mind. _If he can do that with his rage, that means__…__ being angry gives one especial powers! So…if I get myself _really_ angry…I'll be able to manage this stupid spell! And…once I figure out the right weave, I'll be able to do it without getting angry! Yes, that's the way! Now…just let me get angry…_

Concentrating on all of his negative experiences, he began to meditate, building up his rage and hatred.

_Now, which memory to use…_

He thought of the brutal bullying in the dormitories, of the elder students who forced him to do chores for them, of the way in which the Dorm Master sneered down his nose at him, and turned a blind eye when the elder students shoved their dirty work at him to do, taking all the credit for his sweat and blood.

His rage built up in him, and focusing it, released it in a stream of power.

A spark blossomed on the lint, and it caught fire.

* * *

**Deep in the Void, in his lair, the Beast stirred, awakening in response to the first vestiges of power.

* * *

**

Randal opened his eyes when he felt the release of power, and saw the spark landing on the oil. He smiled, and closed his eyes again.

"Well, at last you did it! Good start, but we have to do better. A spark will never work on even _dry_ lint, much less wet wood! Now, keep practicing!" still keeping his eyes closed, he placed a small piece of dry wood, without any oil, onto the table.

Thus, he completely failed to catch the reddish aura around the boy deepen.

* * *

_The pig! I did it already, and he still wants me to go on!_ He tried to calm himself, but failed._ Well, it seems that I have to do more…pity that I actually like this Master – well, most of the time at least – there's nothing for me to work on there. He's strict, but fair, and actually quite fun if you get on his good side._

He created another small spark, but the wood didn't catch fire. He summoned a small storm of sparks, but it still didn't catch.

_Damn it all! I need more power! Who was the idiot who invented this stupid spell anyway? I swear I'm gonna kill his if I ever meet him…_

_Now, what's another likely memory…?_

He thought of his father, literally packing him off to the White Winds School in the middle of the night, of his pleas and cries to be allowed to remain. The long journey in the locked wagon, the darkness, the _loneliness_ of it all came rushing back to him, fuelling his discontent. Once again, he took all the hate, all the anger, and shoved it into the spell.

A small flame appeared on the wood, licking at it. At first, it seemed that the wood would successfully resist it, but it finally caught and started burning merrily on the table. He grinned triumphantly.

* * *

**The Beast awoke, stretching lazily. It sensed the entrance to its den opening, and he stalked towards it. Before he could reach it, it closed again, so he sat near the exit, waiting patiently for it to reopen.**

**In this place, he had literally all the time in the world – that and much more.

* * *

**

"How's that, Master?"

Randal opened his eyes lazily, focusing on the merrily burning chip of wood.

"Better. I think you've gotten the hang of it. Now, just finish up two more exercises before we'll break for lunch." Lazily waving his hand, a fresh chunk of wood appeared on the table.

"Wood again?"

"The previous piece of wood is like most of the logs you find around the lands. It's dry, and has been seasoned for quite a long period of time. Sometimes, however, in the wild, the only wood source available has been drenched in water for goodness knows how long. This wood is green wood, still rather wet. It'll be much harder for you to burn this."

"Master, how good were you at this exercise?" Faravale cautiously asked.

_Hmm, so he wants to know how well he's doing relative to me, does he?_ "I had an extremely easy time of it. In fact, my master did it on a wooden table, and I set the table alight too on my first try." He chuckled. "I'm lucky enough have a small amount of Firestarting gift, boy. It makes this spell extremely easy for me. Now, you do the exercise!"

_He seems to be shoving an unusual amount of power into the spell, certainly more than he is normally capable of. It is certainly within his potential, but I have never actually caught him doing something like that before, in any other exercise. I'd better watch him closely now. Not too obviously; I'll use Mage-sight instead of ordinary sight._

Closing his eyes, he sent his vision in the strange _up_ and _out_ twisting that opened his eyes to the vital forces of the word itself. Coming back, he saw the boy's aura an uneven, pulsing red, indicative of anger.

_Well, that's natural, I suppose, considering what I'm putting him through. Now, let me see what he's doing…

* * *

_

_Humph. The old man's asleep again._ Faravale glared at the offending figure of his Master sitting across him. _Two more times, he said. He's asking me to burn wet wood. I fully intend to stay as a teacher or even a village mage in some nice, civilised area, not tramp about Rethwellan, Karse and gods know where else like a blasted merc!_

_Might as well get on with it. He won't let me out till it's done anyway._

Once again, he wove the spell that ignited the previous wooden block. This time, however, it didn't even start to sputter before dying out. He tried it again, with the same result.

_Shit! I need a new memory…but nothing seems to be more potent…except…that…_

Mentally taking a deep breath, he plunged into the depths of his darkest memory.

* * *

_He sat on the floor in front of a fire, playing with some wooden blocks. It was cold and dark outside, it being the onset of winter, but in the house it was bright and warm. His mother, a beautiful lady, sat watching him, knitting and laughing at his clownish, clumsy antics. It looked set to be another typical winter night, when_

_Balm! A gust of wind blew the door off its hinges. The hungry, cold winds outside came swirling, rushing into the house, eradicating all warmth from it. Even the fire seemed to shrink back from the relentless force of the winter wind._

_His mother shrieked, and shrieked again as a man, hooded in a cloak of black, marched into the house. _

_Another shriek issued from her mouth as he pulled back his hood, revealing the eyes of a demon burning in an inhumanly handsome face._

"_I hate girls who scream," issued a thin, snakelike voice from the stranger's mouth. He raised his hand, and a blood-red beam of light issued from it, lancing towards his mother._

_She did then what she had never done before: thrusting her hands in front of her, she yelled out three syllables in a language that she had never used before. A bubble, a half-dome of argent sprang up in front of her. She staggered as the beam struck, but the shield held true, deflecting the bolt and burning a hole in the ceiling. The stranger's eyes widened._

"_Well done, my dear Cecilia, Journeyman mage of the Fireflower School." He hissed. His mother's eyes widened in shock._

"_Dansuma? But…I thought you were dead! How did you survive that avalanche?"_

"_Dansuma?" the stranger repeated. "Dansuma? Dansuma is dead!" a thin, cackling laugh. "He died in the avalanche, indeed, allowing me to come in and take over!"_

"_No…what are you?" Cecilia yelled. Spinning her hands through a series of intricate gestures, she sent an argent mist shooting towards Dansuma's body. It settled over him, and vanished into him – causing no harm. He laughed, in his thin, snakelike way, yet again._

"_Ever the banisher, my _dear_ Cecilia." Striding over, he struck her on her face, throwing her to the ground. "You were always good at doing that, at dispelling demons and the like. However, it is foolish to try that against a full Adept mage." At her gasp, he continued. "Oh yes, Dansuma was Adept potential, did you know that? Thus, by possessing his body, I am an Adept!" He yawned. "Talk bores me. I think I'll kill you and your brat now."_

_All this time, he had been sitting where he was, staring, but now he ran behind his mother's skirts, hiding from that pitiless, merciless gaze._

"_No!" Cecilia cried. "I don't believe Dansuma's dead! Dansuma! Hear me! This is our son! Remember the night before we left for the mountain? This is OUR SON!"_

_The Adept stood there, shocked for awhile, before throwing his head back and laughing. "This is Dansuma's son? His son?" still laughing, he kicked the prone figure lying on the ground, causing her to gasp and double over in pain. "He had a son!" he kicked her again. "Dansuma is dead! DEAD! Get that!" still laughing madly, he released a green tendril of energy that arced around Cecilia's body, wrapping around Faravale. Kicking and screaming, he was lifted into the air, around the protesting cries of his mother, bringing him close to those devilish eyes. They examined him closely, and the man gave a small start of surprise._

"_Well, that's interesting. He has a really strong Potential, unlike you," he sneered at the prostate form. "He has the potential to be more powerful than his father! In fact," he muttered to himself, "he outshines his father by a large percentage. He'll do." Setting him down, he turned his attention back to Cecilia._

"_Now, my dear…what are you doing?" Cecilia had regained her feet, and was standing, palms outstretched facing him. She had her eyes closed, and a sudden pressure began to build in the room._

"_Dear me. Final Strike." The mage said sarcastically. "Final Strike with your son in the room. How intriguing."_

"_I'd rather he die than become your pawn, demonspawn!" a wind was whipping around her, and she began to be lifted into the air. Her hair slowly started turning white, and her eyes faded from brown to a clear sapphire blue._

"_I do have a name, you know. Call me Falconsbane." The mage yawned, tapping his staff on the ground thrice. Immediately, shield after shield after shield sprang up, surrounding him. At his gesture, the shields extended to cover Faravale, who was hiding behind a ceramic pot._

"_Fine, then. Falconsbane, die!"_

_With that last cry, she exploded in a rush of energy._

_The power released by her death, by the ley-lines she tapped, burst out towards Falconsbane in a mass of heat, light and pure power. His shield expanded to meet it._

"_One, two, three, four…" the man who called himself Falconsbane was lazily ticking off. Faravale could see the distortion of the air growing thinner and thinner as the shields were burnt through._

"…_sixteen, seventeen, and…that's it." Precisely as the final shield broke, the power dissipated into the air, leaving an area of devastation around where the house was. Only the areas shielded remained, a patch of green in a sea of black._

"_Well, little brat, I think I'll just leave you here. Some people will be coming from the village soon enough and I don't think they'll let you die." Staring at the door's arch, he concentrated, and the landscape through it blurred, shifted, and changed. "See you in several years time, little boy." Cheerily waving one hand, he stepped through the arch, and was gone._

_When the villagers came, they found only Faravale sitting there, amidst the desolation, crying over a silver locket that was the only remnant of his mother.

* * *

_

Randal looked at him curiously through the mage-sight. He had been sitting, silently shaking, as his aura had deepened into the tones of deep pain, grief, and sorrow. _What is he doing?_

Abruptly, the aura shifted to a dark, angry, pulsing red, and as Faravale opened his eyes, he could find no trace of logic there. He sat bolt upright, stretching one hand towards the block of wood, and released a flood of energy so intense that Randal closed his Mage-sight in pain.

The wood exploded at the force, scattering burning splinters throughout the room, and even cratering the table. The dreadful realisation of his student's sudden power came to Randal too late.

_He's using his emotions…he's using his anger and hate!_ Shock jerked through him, and a tinge of fear shot down his spine. It was swiftly replaced by a cold, smouldering anger, rising into a swift flame. _This must be stopped!

* * *

_

**Sitting, watching and waiting, the beast eagerly moved towards the portal once it opened. This time, it stayed open, but as he was about to move into it, he sensed the presence of another Mage. Evaluating the mage's power, he knew that the mage would sense him and may severely hurt or even kill him during the transfer. No matter.**

**Smiling, he sent two waves of power and thought across the Void, one targeted at master, the other at student. He sat back to wait, near the portal shimmering before him.

* * *

**

Faravale jumped as a small chip of wood struck him, jerking him out of his anger-induced trance. He stared at the damage disbelievingly. _I did that?_ He asked himself disbelievingly.

All of a sudden, the smoke cleared, and Randal stood on before him. His eyes had turned cold, and that was more shocking to Faravale than anything else.

"How dare you?" he demanded. "How dare you?" He knocked Faravale to the ground. "How _Dare_ you?"

"W…What did I do?" Faravale lay sprawled on the floor, his hand on his cheek.

"You know what you did!" Randal roared, bending over and slapping him repeatedly. "Never (thwack) do (thwack) that (thwack) again!" with the last word, he launched several Levin-bolts around the boy, grabbing him and drawing him close.

* * *

**The beast smiled in triumph. One of his pulses had taken effect, inflaming the normally calm Master and subtly making him use the Levin-bolt spell. He released the second pulse just as they grabbed onto the student.

* * *

**

As the Levin-bolts curled around him, the spell nested in his brain – and immediately, he was plunged into the depths of his darkest nightmare once again.

_- tendril of energy that arced around Cecilia's body, wrapping around Faravale. Kicking and screaming, he was lifted into the air, around the protesting cries of his mother, bringing him close to those devilish eyes -_

He screamed, and lashed out blindly with the first spell that came to mind -

The spell that called fire.

Shoving an awesome amount of pure, raw, power, spawned of rage and fear, into the spell, he broke past his master's shielding, and called fire onto his master himself. For a short while, he grinned in savage pleasure and madness.

Then his world caught fire.

* * *

**The beast swarmed through the void, following the thin tendril leading to the student. He had been summoned by Fire, and by fire he would answer. Reaching the mind of the boy, he ruthlessly ripped away his consciousness, destroying it in a blink with the full force of an Adept, before seating itself in its body.**

**Falconsbane smiled.

* * *

**

Randal was stamping out the fires on his robe, before looking up and thinking _What an immense amount of power! I'm lucky he didn't…_

His thoughts froze, and spiralled down into darkness, his last sight being that of his student with his heart in his hands, and eyes of yellow…

Falconsbane looked contemptuously at the heartless body of his victim. _What an idiot._

Taking the power released by the Mage's death, he spun a cocoon about himself, encasing him in a webbing of power for a full minute. When he emerged, he had the physique of a strong, young god, with slitted yellow eyes. Smiling at his reflection in a pool of blood, he opened the door of the workroom and strode out. He had an entire school to kill, an entire new discipline to rape.

Falconsbane, Ma'ar, the destroyer walked the earth again.

* * *

A/N: Whew…this took me freaking long. Finished at last! I was watching the Jap anime Naruto and for some reason the Big Bad Guy's features keep sticking in my mind! I tried to keep the first Falconsbane (the memory one) as close to what I remember from Black Gryphon, but I think that he'll turn out looking more like Orochimaru (the abovementioned Big Bad Guy). Oh well. Hope you guys liked it anyway. 


End file.
